Fire and Ice
by J.S. Mews
Summary: What are Erik's last thoughts as he's about to die? A short poem fic. Poem by Robert Frost, interpreted through Erik's actions. Leroux with a few references to ALW. PG13 for suicide. Each chapter is one line
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: The poem _Fire and Ice_ is by Robert Frost. The story _The Phantom of the Opera_ is by Gaston Leroux. I have included some lines from the ALW version though.**_

* * *

Some say the world will end in fire;  
_Erik looked at Don Juan Triumphant. He had finally completed it, and knew it was time to die. It was his last desire, his last wish. To die with the composition of his life safely in his arms was a dream come true. To fulfill the wish since his descent into the Opera House he had built was a great task, and he would be sure not to miss the chance. What rich desire unlocked its door? The desire of death had come. The Red Death had finally come to claim his servant. There was nothing but this desire left in his heart and mind.


	2. Chapter 2

_Some say in ice.   
_Yet in the same breath, Erik knew this was not true. There was love behind the madness. Love for his music and love for…he could not bear to think her name. Yet it was her who haunted his dreams. She was the only one who could entwine herself with his music so perfectly that it seemed one could not live without the other. He found this a sad half truth. A bird may sing sweetly, he thought, but if its nest is destroyed then they can make another. The nest, on the other hand, was past the point of no return and gone forever.


	3. Chapter 3

_From what I've tasted of desire  
_Erik shook the thoughts out of his head. His time had come finally. Erik had been patient and worked, and now his wish was to come true. This thought alone truly made his night the best he knew that would ever exist. A last goodnight in his death-box bed was in order. He was saving the world from the sight of a monster that they had already seen too often. Slowly, he climbed into the coffin after writing a letter. He was ready to die. He took Don Juan Triumphant into his hands and began to climb in. Down with him went a knife.


	4. Chapter 4

_I hold with those who favor fire.  
_He laid down in his bed and placed the opera on his chest. It had been played once, and would never be played again. He would make sure of that. He held the knife in his sweaty palm, ready to stab his life and his heart. He knew they played two different roles, no matter how many times people believed they were the same. Life was acting on desires of all kinds. He had lived a life of desire, or so he judged. He had killed whom he wished and hurt those he hated. Yet his heart had only music. It was music…and her.


	5. Chapter 5

_But if it had to perish twice,  
_He could not stab himself. He wanted to, needed to end this life and fulfill his desire. Yet now that he was at the final threshold, desires faded. What use was there in dying on a whim? What life dream had he been dreaming all of this time? If Erik were to die tonight, he would never see Christine again. He jumped out of the coffin with Don Juan Triumphant and ran to the fire. The embers were glowing brightly, and he was ready to start a new. He tossed his life into the fire. Don Juan Triumphant was gone and Erik was left.


	6. Chapter 6

_I think I know enough of hate  
_Only his heart was left. He thought of her…Christine. Erik knew it was safe to think her name again. She did love him, in some way. Erik placed the knife on the table and thought. Christine had visited him and lived in his house. She had sang for him and given him her soul in song. She was kind and loving. Erik knew that there was a perfect life ahead for him and Christine. As he started to smile, he remembered a word that he never wanted to hear again. It was the worst word he could think of: Raoul.


	7. Chapter 7

_To know that for destruction ice  
_He had taken Christine, the monstrous thing he was. Christine had a heart for the most disturbing things. She had accepted this lovesick suitor, this slave of fashion who knew nothing! She did not love her poor Erik. He was just a passing fancy. He was just the mangy dog who was looked upon once or twice and then left to die without love or hope. The monster, on the other hand, was the bratty spoiled poodle who had a personality to match that of Carlotta's. He needed more help, so Christine gave him her love, leaving Erik behind. What use was a heart when there was nothing to love? The Devil's Child knew only hate.


	8. Chapter 8

_Is also great  
And would suffice._

Could he truly live with only a heart? He saw the bitter irony: the man who had always been the tool of hate was killed by his own weapon. He was a monster. Who could love a monster? Do wild murderous beasts truly need life? If they died, would anyone care? No was the answer Erik knew was right. Until Christine, he had not known love. Since Christine, he finally understood that without love, life was nothing. He started to reach for the knife, but instead went for the pistol. The cold weapon smelled of hate, of lies and deceit, of treachery and betrayal. It was so perfect for him, he thought, as he pulled the trigger.


End file.
